Laura's Lost Love
by bibliophile tropicale
Summary: Laura returns to LA to rekindle her romance with Perry and meets Della Street for the first time.  Experience Laura's dinner with Della and more...
1. Chapter 1

20

_Title: Laura's Lost Love- _

_A follow-up story for "The Interview-Perry and The Interview-Della"_

_Author: Bibliophile tropicale_

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of Perry Mason and Della Street. My reward is not monetary. The only reward is the joy of creating and the pleasure of bringing these characters to life

Rating-PG-13 Sexual situations and innuendo, mild language, discussions of suicide, alcohol and tobacco use.

_Suppose the 'Lost Love' was really Perry Mason?_

_From Laura Donaldson's point of view..._

The big jet soared upward, climbing through the atmosphere like a bird of prey. The city of Denver and its surrounding mountains changed from darkness to shadows as the sun peaked above the horizon. The first class section was quiet and dimly lit as commuters on the red-eye flight read the paper or caught up on missing sleep. The pilot turned off the seatbelt lights and the flight attendants began the routine of caring for those special first class passengers.

Laura Donaldson sat quietly in the last row of first class. She watched the snowcapped mountains and tufts of clouds at lower altitudes. The dress she wore was one of her favorites, a wine colored outfit that accentuated her figure and coloring. She wanted to look her best when she arrived at her destination.

Everyone at the office thought she was heading to Phoenix for an extended weekend at a very exclusive spa. Her secretary knew not to contact her unless it was an emergency. The entire story was true, except for a side trip to Los Angeles. That was her special secret and she had made the arrangements herself.

Thank god, the space next to her was vacant. She had piled her fur coat and briefcase on the empty seat. How she hated making small-talk with complete strangers. Now all she needed was a stiff drink to fortify her nerves.

A young flight attendant stopped the cart and spoke softly with the passengers across the aisle, then turned to her. Sunlight bore hotly through the window, shedding light over the interior as Laura looked at the young woman who must be all of twenty-two. What she needed was not on the cart of a red-eye flight. "Excuse me, but do you have anything stronger than juice or coffee?"

The attendant's smile showed her regret. "No ma'am, we sure don't."

"Then I'll have black coffee, please."

As Laura took the poured coffee, the bright sunlight caused the ring on her left hand to sparkle. The younger woman's eyes were drawn to its brilliance like a magnet. Laura watched her gaze of envy and smiled. The ring was certainly stunning and she was quickly growing accustom to the compliments and questions it created.

"Oh, my!" the attendant exclaimed softly. "That's the most beautiful ring I've ever seen."

Laura held out her hand and watched the morning light play across the facets of the pear-shaped diamond.

The young woman continued her fascination. "I wish my boyfriend would pop the question and give me a ring like that. Thank you so much for showing it to me."

Laura nodded and ran her hand across her fur admiring the vibrant piece of jewelry. It had caused quite a stir at the firm and she relished the attention. Now as miles and mountain peaks slipped below she only wanted solitude. The cart and the attendant slowly disappeared as Laura pulled the shade across the window casting her seat into semi-darkness.

Sighing deeply, she enjoyed the shadowed quietness; it matched her mood. Not that her mood was dark. On the contrary she was hopeful… hopeful that her trip, her side-trip, would be fruitful.

The cool air flowed through the vents as her mind began to wander. "_Why __did it feel nice to leave Denver_? _Wasn't that where you always wanted to be, a__ mile high and on top of the world_?" She smiled to herself. She had been right about choosing to go to Denver instead of Chicago or New York. It would have taken her many more years, in those larger cities, to accomplish what she'd achieved these past three. The last two had born good fruit from the hard work of the first. Laura closed her eyes against the pain of those earlier twelve months. It had never quite gone away…

The first year at Robertson, Stein, Moore and Whittier had been full of challenges and long hours, coupled with sleepless nights and an empty bed. No amount of praise or acceptance from her co-workers could keep her thoughts from continually drifting back to Perry in LA. Professional accomplishments weren't enough. She had still desperately wanted him with her.

"_Please come with me."_

"_I'm sorry,' he __whispered. 'I can't__, not now."_

Near the end of the first year, Tom Robertson, the firm's founding partner, had asked his secretary to summon her to his office late one afternoon.

_Laura hesitated outside her boss' door before knocking softly__. _

_From inside she heard, "Come in."_

_Slowly she opened the door __and was greeted by Tom Robertson dressed in gray slacks, red suspenders, and a white__ long sleeved shirt with the cuffs turned up. Robertson stood six feet, had a wrestler's build, snow-white hair and piercing brown eyes. In his hands, he carried two glasses of whiskey._

_"Close the door, Laura," he requested as he handed her a glass and walked to his desk. _

_Laura walked across the room, enjoying the view from the well appointed corner__ office. Robertson's desk sat in the center of it all. Glass formed two sides of the office from floor to ceiling and looked out over the Denver panorama and the Rocky Mountains beyond. Stepping near the __window, she__ looked down and then out. It was though she stood on a pinnacle, a position of omnipotence. Her __body tingled at the power the room conveyed, the__ man in it, and the vision of conquering and controlling the world beyond._

_"I can't __get enough of this view," she spoke softly. From her peripheral vision, she could see her employer sitting in his desk's__chair, his eyes moving over her._

_"I know the feeling," he responded. "It is intoxicating."_

_She turned__ to face him and smiled. _

_Robertson leaned back in his chair__, facing her. His left thumb__was hooked beneath his red suspenders while his right hand__cradled his drink__. "Sit down, Laura."_

_She gracefully moved across the floor and placed a hip on the corner of his __desk. Her skirt edged up her thigh._

_"I've been quite impressed with you," he began, his voice soft and conspiratorial. "You have a talent for mergers and acquisitions, as well as, proxy__ fights and corporate takeovers. You're not afraid of hard work and taking chances. Your strategy before the __Omnicor proxy count__ was very discreet and creative. Our client was very impressed with your performance. _

_You excelled in the 'snake pit', the counting room. Went in knowing each proxy you wanted challenged and charmed them into underestimating you." He grinned. "The attack was quick and from behind." _

_Robertson nodded towards an elegantly framed picture of a large cat and its conquered prey. "Reminded me of an experienced tigress. By the time they realized they were in trouble, it was too late." His eyes met hers. "The kill was from behind, quick and clean….exactly the way I like 'em."_

_Robertson swirled the whiskey in the glass. "You know snake pits are like the wild west of the corporate world, informal, contentious and unruly. You were quite impressive in your __challenges, holding your own, physically going chin to chin with their lawyers." The attorney grinned__, recalling the scene. "I believe you told __their main guy he'd better take his best shot because he was going down and it was up__ to him whether it __would be__ hard or easy." _

_Robertson's eyes narrowed in thought. "The inspector of elections ruled in your favor. You, Miss Donaldson, managed to pull off one of our largest takeovers. Our client was extremely satisfied and included a bonus for handling the acquisition in such__a discrete manner." _

_He paused in thought. "Those boys in LA called you a __firecracker."_

_Tom's eyes moved along her silken legs. "I think they underestimated you as well. But it doesn't matter, because now you're," he emphasized the words, "my tigress and my firecracker."_

_Laura laughed softly as she watched__him lean forward and pick up his gold cigarette case engraved with an elegant, __TR._

_Effortlessly he flipped opened the case and offered her a cigarette. She took one and placed it between her lips. Robertson flipped open the cover to a matching gold __lighter and gazed__covetously as she lean forward revealing an ample view of cleavage. She watched as he leaned back in his chair, lighting his own cigarette._

_"I could __make you a__senior partner with a snap of my fingers. But I'm afraid the boys would put up a fuss, especially Moore. You have what it takes and I like what you do," Robertson __paused. His eyes moved over her again,__as he__ brought his cigarette to his lips and inhaled. "You've __mentioned another attorney, Perry Mason." _

_Laura kept a tight reign on her emotions as__ he watched her._

_He continued. "I did some checking on him. This Mason is doing quite well for himself in LA. You'd like for him to join our firm." His eyes watched for any reaction. "But I think your interest is more than just __professional, isn't__ it?"_

_She inhaled deeply on her cigarette, exhaled, and __watched the smoke rise through the air as she stalled, gathering her thoughts. "Now really," she began smoothly, "couldn't you say the same for yourself when you asked me to come on board?"_

_A wicked grin pulled __at the corners of his mouth as he ground out his cigarette in the ashtray. "Touché!"_

_Robertson abruptly stood and moved next to her, his voice soft and __urgent. "Let's get this straight. I understand what makes you tick, Laura Donaldson.__ This office, this view, you would love to be sitting here, doing what I do, running the show. I know __that; I can__ see it in your eyes and in what you do. You're __driven; you're__ ambitious. I'm no fool! I just wish Glen had…." His voice trailed off._

_Looking up at his face only inches from hers, she__watched the pupils of his dark brown eyes open to their fullest extent. She could feel the excitement, the electricity between them._

_"If only I were younger," Robertson smiled __wanly, his eyes moving over her face, his__ voice __wistful,__ "and things were different." _

_He took another sip of the whiskey before continuing. "I will consider your Perry Mason. You've scratched my __back," he__ paused, "and now I'll scratch yours. If he's anything like you, heaven help us all."_

_Laura smiled with satisfaction and finished the whiskey in one gulp. _

She had both called and written Perry, begging him to accept Robertson's forth-coming invitation for an interview and join her in Denver. His answer had remained the same. He appreciated the interest, but his caseload was full_. _He couldn't get 't he understand she had been paving the way for him? They could be a power couple, an unstoppable legal force. They could be on that pinnacle together. Laura closed her eyes against an emotional flood of frustration and hope.

Then there was Glen Robertson, Tom's son. The elder Robertson had brought his son into the firm to join his college friends, Elliot Moore, Gerald Stein, and Frank Whittier.

After her confirmation, Glen had waited till the others had moved on before he spoke to her. "I imagine the firm in LA was sad to see you leave." The moment stuck in her mind as she studied Tom's son, trying to compare the two men. The resemblance was superficial, the personalities polar opposites.

She smiled seductively. "I'm hoping you and this firm will make me happy that I left."

His reserved manner disappeared for a moment; his eyes moved hungrily over her and then met her gaze. He extended his hand. "I will do my best to make sure you're happy with your decision."

Glen had been serious in his efforts to make her happy. He made sure her office was to her liking, her secretary one of the firm's best, and her clients a very select group of influential citizens.

Through the office grapevine, she'd learned about his wife's death from ovarian cancer. Since then, he had thrown all his energies into his work. He was a wealth of information and influential connections, extending back to the time his father had first opened the office. His quietness and reserved manner had meshed well with her flare and outgoing personality.

Then one Friday afternoon as the building was clearing for the weekend, he entered her office. At first she did not notice him, her mind busily deciding what work she needed to finish at home. It was his nervous manner that caught her attention.

_"__Laura," he began__ softly._

_She looked up when he failed to __continue. "Yes?"_

_"I haven't dated in years, decades actually," he blurted out._

_She stifled a laugh. "__Decades?"_

_He grinned self-consciously__. "Yeah. Decades__."_

_Glen paused gaining his nerve, finding the silence between them unbearable while Laura waited, not __sure if this was some__ kind of joke._

_"My wife and I were married a long time and after she died, well, I, uh, I simply wasn't interested."_

_She closed her briefcas__e,__not really paying attention or preferring to ignore where this was leading. "That's understandable." _

_"But working with you has changed that."_

_Suddenly a knot formed in her __stomach. Her__ lungs felt as though the air had been squeezed from them and the blood in her __brain seemed to disappear,__ causing her to feel faint._

_"Will you have dinner with me, Laura?"_

_She leaned on her briefcase, not daring to look at him for fear he would see the panic in her eyes. Her only thoughts were of Perry and her longing for what she'd had in LA._

_"Oh, Glen," she whispered without looking at him. "I'm not feeling well, not tonight." She was being honest; she felt ill._

_"What about tomorrow night?" he asked hopefully._

_"I'll call you," she blurted out as she picked up her briefcase __and moved to the door. "Really, I'll call you."_

That night she had lain in her bed, the phone cradled on her shoulder. The phone to Perry Mason's apartment, his private unlisted number rang continuously. At first their calls had been frequent and always late at night, she lying on her bed, he no doubt on the couch in his pajamas. Their conversations were like pillow talk, soft, sexy, and intimate. Over time, the conversations became more formal, more businesslike. And now the phone went unanswered. The calls to his office were brief and formal and always on the run. He promised to call. He promised to visit Denver, perhaps after the next case. Time slipped by and nothing.

Reluctantly she'd picked up the phone and called Glen. Up until then, she'd filled her evenings with work, which only diverted her mind to a certain extent. She was growing depressed and felt she might go mad if she didn't do something. Even her sessions with Dr. Emmitt Michaels had not helped.

Their first date was like the man, quiet and reserved. The second date more relaxed and they had enjoyed their time together. Glen was a pleasant distraction, like a quiet and relaxing soak in the tub. Quiet, relaxing, and pleasant, exactly what she needed at the end of a tough day but…?

Laura moved the diamond ring back and forth on her finger. But was it enough? Was it possible to have it all? What did she really want? She closed her eyes as she slipped the expensive piece of jewelry off her hand. **Perry Mason**. She had wanted him with her then and she wanted him with her now. She wanted the thrill of him, the stimulation of his thoughts and ideas and the fire of his conviction. She reached for her purse and dropped the ring into a side pouch.

_Their heated arguments were like foreplay. Once entering his apartment, still bantering back and forth, he would start the fire, __while she mixed their drinks and threw the comforter before the fireplace. Quietly she would move near him, his eyes blazing, his speech forceful__, his hand moving… trying to drive home some point. Gently her fingers would slip along the buttons on his shirt, feeling the pounding of his heart, her other hand circling his neck drawing his face near hers. His voice would slow, his hands slipping beneath her blouse. She would kiss him lightly, then along the angle of his jaw, his neck and then it was an explosion, an explosion of passion __like a hot spark and gasoline. _

Laura stared at the hand devoid of the shiny diamond. The lack of sparkle and fire was how she felt without Perry. She wanted to live those passionate times again.

_The roaring flames of the fireplace had been spent, like the lover who lay propped on the pillows and comforter. Her eyes moved over the expanse of his broad chest covered with dark silken hairs. His arm propped behind his head, full lips half-parted, a strand of dark wavy hair draped across his forehead. His eyes still __smoldered like ambers, hot and sexy._

She wanted ….needed to live that moment over and over again_._

_Feeling her intense gaze, he gave a small grin, the dimple in his left cheek visible. "What is it?"_

_Her hand beneath the comforter gently stroked his thigh; the other hand loosely held the comforter across her chest._

"_You," she__ whispered._

"_Me?" he laughed__ softly._

"_This is how I want to remember you, the way you look right now. I want to remember you like this the rest of my life."_

_His hand slipped beneath the comforter and took the hand on his thigh and pulled her to him. _

She sighed, her eyes closing in the darkness. She had to know. Was the passion still there?

LA-Outside the Brent Building-

Laura Donaldson sipped another cup of coffee while watching the front of the Brent Building. Katherine Graham had yet to make her appearance. She checked her watch, noting the time. Katherine should be leaving to have lunch with her courthouse friends any moment now.

'Afternoon delights'she had called them long ago. Slipping away from her work, she would try to arrive at the Brent Building at noon, hoping to catch Perry alone in his office. Later that evening, they would meet at his or her apartment to further the 'delight'. Why did that time seem so long ago?"

Suddenly her eyes spotted Gertie Lade, the receptionist. The petite blonde fingered her hair nervously as she darted across the street, disappearing around the corner. Laura paid the bill and picked up her purse and fur coat. The adrenaline began to pump as she crossed the street and stepped into the Brent Building's elevator. Looking down, she recognized the elderly elevator operator and for a moment she wondered if the old woman would remember her.

"What floor, honey?" the operator asked, looking out for others who might try a last second entrance into her domain.

"Ninth floor, please," Laura answered, a little relieved the old woman had a short memory.

The elevator door opened on the 9th floor and cherished memories quickly returned. The hallway, at noon, was as quiet as she remembered. Purposely she moved toward Mason's suite and stopped outside its door. _What will you say__?_ _Were words really necessary when lovers are concerned?_ Her hand reached for the doorknob and turned it. The door was unlocked. Opening the door slightly, she heard silence.

The waiting room was empty and just as she remembered.

She smoothed down her dress and checked her hair before reaching for the next door knob. She remembered Katherine Graham was a pleasant woman and ready for retirement when Bull Johnson persuaded her to continue as Perry's secretary.

Laura opened the door to Katherine's office and heard voices, laughter. The elderly secretary did have a wicked sense of humor, perhaps she had said something that amused Perry. The fact that she hadn't left for lunch yet wasn't a problem. She would recognize Laura and would know Perry needed some private time with his dear friend.

Stepping across the secretarial office, she noticed the room looked different. Turning around, she realized Katherine's things were gone and a fresh new look took its place, feminine… but still professional. Her eyes narrowed, remembering that the last time she'd called the office a new secretary had put her through. She hadn't thought anything of it at the time, but now…..the nuance was subtle; she could feel it like a tigress feels the presence of a rival.

The voices continued along with sporadic laughter. She slowly turned the knob leading to Perry's private office and opened the door slightly. The muffled voices became clear.

"The look on Allen Devane's face was priceless."

It was his voice. Her heart leapt at its sound.

"That smug look certainly disappeared when I brought that statue into the courtroom. The one he thought he had hidden." A woman's voice, it wasn't Katherine Graham's, then a throaty laugh. "That statue was heavy! Honestly, Perry, I thought I was going to drop it on Hamilton Burger's foot."

The attorney chuckled. "Even if you had, Della, he wouldn't have felt the pain. He was already feeling the disbelief of his case collapsing before his eyes. Your timing was impeccable."

"Why, thank you, Counselor." A moment passed.

"Your welcome."

"Wait, hold still." The female voice instructed as Laura could wait no longer to further open the door.

Quietly the door swung a little more open. She slipped halfway through and held her breath at Perry Mason and a young woman sitting side by side at the table near the sliders. Half eaten sandwiches and drinks sat before them. The young woman gently cradled Perry's chin in her hand while wiping his mouth and cheek with a napkin.

"Am I presentable Miss Street?" he asked with mock formality.

The young woman smiled back. "Not yet, how did you get mustard over there?"

Perry laughed. "Don't get coy with me young lady; you have mustard on your lips and cheek as well."

The young woman giggled as she finished wiping his lips, took the same napkin, turned it over and wiped her own mouth, then looked at the tissue perplexed. "Mustard!" she exclaimed. "I don't even like mustard." They both grinned, caught up in their own private world, enjoying the irony.

Laura felt the blood draining from her head; the room seemed to spin as she stepped forward and steadied herself with the knob. Its squeak broke their revelry. Mason stopped and turned toward the sound.

"Laura!" He called to her as he stood.

She plastered on a smile. "_Steady! Don't__ make __a fool __of yourself."_

She straightened her back, squaring her shoulders. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have walked in unannounced."

Perry and the young woman were both standing beside her.

"Della, this is an old friend of mine, Laura Donaldson. Are you feeling all right, Laura? You look pale; can we get something for you?"

"Yes, I'm fine; really I am. The flight was tiring that's all."

Perry finished the introduction. "Laura Donaldson, this is my confidential secretary, Della Street."

Della Street smiled sweetly, her cheeks flushed as she extended her hand. "It's a pleasure meeting you, Miss Donaldson."

She took her hand and felt softness and surprising strength. "Della Street." She repeated her name and nodded. "_Della Street. __So you're __his new secretary__. Where's Katherine? And when did you start?" _

Laura turned back to Mason, her eyes moving over him, relishing in seeing him; her hand reached out to his chest. "It's good seeing you again, Perry."

Della's eyes surreptitiously watched their visitor lay her hand on her boss' chest as she moved to their coffee room. "We have drinks, Miss Donaldson. Would you care for one?"

"Thank you, dear," Laura said sweetly as though speaking to a considerate maid.

Perry slipped his hand over Laura's elbow and guided her to the table where they had been eating and pulled out a chair for her. She took the seat and stared across the table at their plates, at the two cut, half-eaten sandwiches, _one with the mustard _and the _other with mayonnaise_. The longer she stared the more this detail wormed it way through her mind and the greater her tension grew. Della Street didn't like mustard; her sandwich has no mustard.

Perry was relaxed and pleasant. "This is a nice surprise. How long have you been in LA?"

Her finger nervously moved across the edge of his plate as she stared at him_._ The question continued to eat away_. "How did both of you have mustard on your lips, Perry__? How did__ she get mustard on her face? Tell me."_

_Perry laughed. "Don't get coy with me young__lady;__ you have mustard on your lips and cheek as well."_

"_Mustard!" she __exclaimed. "I__ don't even like mustard." _

She resisted the urge to scream and sling the plate across the room. _"Laura, Laura, Laura," her inner voice cooed. "You__ did not __travel this far to scream and become violent. This is not why you are here!"_

"I just arrived. Tell me, Perry, how are you?" she asked in a forced calm voice.

Della emerged from the coffee room. "I hope you like lemonade."

Laura pulled her lips into a forced smile. "Oh that is lovely, dear. Thank you."

She watched the young woman place the napkin and glass in front of her.

Della announced, "If you'll excuse me, I have some business with our private investigator down the hall."

Laura watched Perry gaze follow his secretary as she gracefully reached across his desk to retrieve a steno book, her skirt rising, pulling snug, revealing a shapely hip and leg. Laura's fingers gripped the glass, resisting the urge to reach out and slap him as he gave directions to Della but let his eyes linger for a second too long on her shapely assets.

His voice was professional but warm. "While you're there, Della, tell Paul we need to find Grace DeWitt. I still have questions that need answering. Tell him to use several men if he has to."

"I'll get right on it," she answered crisply as she headed out the door.

Perry turned back to his guest, smiling, finishing their conversation. "I've been doing alright. I've been very busy. Just finished a case today and we have a preliminary hearing on another one week after next."

His voice softened along with his eyes as he looked at her. "It never ends does it?"

The warmth in his eyes and voice made her heart flutter. Neither time nor distance had changed the affect he had on her. "_Be honest with yourself. He'll always take your breath away." _Without hesitation, she stood and moved to his side, her hand moving across his shoulder. She sat on the edge of the table and looked down at him.

Taking his face in her hands, she bent toward him and whispered. "No, it never ends. It never will." Lightly she touched his lips with hers. She started in again but he drew back slightly and simply clasped her hand in his.

"It's been a long time hasn't it?"

"Too long," she sighed, then ignoring the increased distance, kissed him again more urgently.

_How long had she waited for this kiss? It seemed like an eternity. His lips were soft and sweet, just as she remembered. The kiss was all she had hoped for, but yet. But yet what? Was it really the same? It was for you, but what about him? Don't be silly. You're just imagining things."_

She leaned back, her fingers gently caressing his cheek. "Remember our 'afternoon delights'?"

His eyes turned slightly as he smiled. _She marveled__ at their deep, serene blue and wondered what he was thinking. His silence surprised her. The __lipstick on his mouth, she should remove it with a napkin. But no, leave it there; leave__ it for Della Street to see. _

"Perry." Her voice brought his eyes back to her. "Let's have dinner tonight. Later we can sit by the fire and talk."

He rose from the chair. "Dinner would be nice, but I can't tonight. I have a business appointment in Santa Monica. Are you free tomorrow evening?"

"Yes, tomorrow will be fine." Laura smiled cheerfully, hiding the disappointment in her voice.

"Where are you staying? I'll stop by around 6:30."

"The Carlton hotel, you know, the one a few blocks from here." Her fingertips caressed the fabric of his shirt recalling fond memories.

Perry pulled back the sleeve of his jacket and noted the time. "I'm sorry, Laura, but I have clients stopping by to fill out paperwork in about thirty minutes. I'm sure Della has it all arranged, but I need to check it one more time before they arrive."

His fingers slipped around her elbow as she rose and he guided her across the floor to the door. "I'm glad you stopped by."

_No, the goodbye was happening all too soon._ "_Oh, Perry, just a little_ _longer_." She stopped at the door. Her fingers moved across his chest and slid beneath his jacket, feeling the warmth of his skin under the dress shirt, her arms circling around his back, pressing her body close to him. How she longed to touch his bare skin_. "__Why can't Glen make me feel__ this way?" _Without warning her body began to tremble, and he pulled back from her.

"Are you cold?" he asked incredulously, noting the fur coat she wore.

It was then she realized his arms were still at his side and his hands still on her elbows. He had not embraced her. _But __then he__had always been very careful of their behavior at either's office._

She fought the response, suddenly feeling embarrassed and self-conscious. The image of the cool, competent Miss Street popped into her head and the trembling stopped as she pulled away, letting her fingers trail along the buttons of his shirt.

"Of course not, Perry, don't be silly," she laughed. "I look forward to tomorrow."

"Good-bye, Laura." He walked her to the front of the office.

The door closed and she was in the empty hallway again. Her fingers nervously moved across her purse. "_What about tonight?" She_ _should have __called? Too late now. There's still tomorrow evening._ "_There's still hope._ _He's just surprised, cautious. A client is coming." _The sound of her heels echoed on the tile flooring as she neared the elevator. She paused in front of the closed door, her mind racing as she pressed the button and waited for the car to rise.

In a couple minutes she was out on the curb, breathing in cool air, crossing the street to the same little coffee shop. The brisk walk and cool air was refreshing to her.

The waitress smiled. "Would you like your old table?"

"Yes, please and could I have some pie and coffee. Banana cream if you have it and the coffee….."

The young woman finished her sentence. "I know, black. I'll bring it out."

Laura took her seat with a renewed purpose. The words of Tom Robertson ran through her mind. "_You have a talent for proxy fights and hostile takeovers, Laura…they underestimated you…in the proxy count you came at them like a tigress, striking from behind…..."_

The young woman smiled sweetly as she served the coffee and pie. "The banana cream pie is very good. I had a piece myself and it was delicious."

Laura turned on her winning smile. "Why thank you, dear. You've been most kind."

"Thank you, ma'am!" The young woman beamed as she moved on to serve other customers.

"_Now was that so hard_?" _Ply that charm. _

The custardy pie felt sensuous on her tongue in contrast to the bite of the strong coffee; the difference felt divine as she plotted her strategy_. The variable of change was the new secretary._

_Tonight she would dine with this new secretary….this Della Street.__ Just like a proxy fight, she would discover __what made her__ tick. Then at the proper moment, she would make her move, quick and deadly. This was a hostile takeover of a different order. _

~tbc~


	2. Chapter 2

_Laura's Lost Love-Chapter 2_

_Dinner with Della_

_We wear the mask that grins and lies,_

_It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,-_

_ "We Wear the Mask"_

_ Paul Laurence Dunbar_

Laura Donaldson's fur and dress contrasted with the flow of business suits that streamed out of the Brent Building. Casually she moved down the hallway leading to Suite 904. Renewing old contacts had taken up most of the afternoon. Fortunately, the information collected was useful. Once again, it had paid to do her research.

The attorney paused, smoothing her hair before she reached for the doorknob.

"Bye, Della," Gertie Lade called over her shoulder as she opened the outer office door and started to enter the hallway. Her forward movement stopped abruptly, however, when she found herself standing face to face with Laura Donaldson.

"Oh! I'm sorry ma'am, but the office is closed," Gertie announced as she held onto the door knob.

A smile spread across Laura's face. "Hello, Gertie. It's so nice to see you again. I believe Perry is expecting me."

"Mr. Mason has left for the evening," the blond replied, still holding the knob firmly, trying to close the door behind her.

Laura moved quickly to the side, stepping around the receptionist, and pushing through the doorway into the waiting area.

"That's okay. I'll just wait. Perry told me to meet him here at five o'clock. He's probably just running late."

Gertie's eyes narrowed. "Are you sure, Miss Donaldson?"

Laura made a sweeping turn in the room and smiled. "Why, yes."

The receptionist closed the outer door, crossed the room and knocked on Della Street's door. "Miss Street?" It swung open and Della stepped into the outer office.

"Miss Street, a Miss Donaldson is here to see Mr. Mason." The receptionist studied the furred intruder. "She's very insistent and wants to wait for his return."

Della nodded at the lawyer and then turned to the frowning receptionist. "Thank you, Gertie. I'll take care of this. There's no need for you to stay."

The blond nervously gripped her purse in her arms, looking back and forth between the two women, taking in their body language. "Thank you, Miss Street. Will you lock the door?"

Della replied kindly, "Yes, I'll be glad to."

Gertie nodded reluctantly and disappeared, closing the door behind her.

Both women watched as the blond receptionist left, leaving them alone in the office. Laura's eyes moved over the new secretary noting the tailored double-breasted cranberry suit, fitted white blouse, classic pearl necklace and earrings. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she considered how Perry would notice her many physical attributes. "_Be honest with yourself. Of all the women you've seen in and around this building today, she is by far the most striking__."_

"I'm afraid Mr. Mason has a business meeting this evening and has left for the day," Della announced professionally. "May I be of assistance?"

Laura had practiced the pout in the mirror and felt it was one of her better performances. "Oh, no," she exclaimed, her lips pursing together while placing her hand against her cheek. "I was certain Perry said tonight at five. Are you positive, Miss Street?"

Della crossed her arms and smiled. "I'm sorry, but Mr. Mason is gone for the evening."

"I've been so disoriented from my flight. I guess I'm confused. Please forgive me." She gave an exaggerated sigh, her shoulders slumped.

"I can inform Mr. Mason that you stopped by," Della announced as she moved to the outer door and began to open it.

"Oh thank you, thank you so much, Miss Street, but…." Laura's voice trailed off as she turned toward the secretary. "It's just that it's been awhile since I've been in LA. I've lost touch with so many people, so many friends, you know."

She could feel Della's eyes moving over her. _"You're studying me aren't you… reading me, noting every nuance. Don't __worry, tonight I'll__ give you the performance you deserve."_

"I could order room service, but I had really hoped on company tonight." She spoke softly, eyes down cast, her fingers nervously toying with the clasp to her purse. "I know it's quite forward of me to ask, but would you mind dining with me this evening?"

The attorney stole a glance, watching for Della's reaction and found none. Sweetening the offer, she added, "It will be my treat."

"Miss Donaldson," Della began, "you really….."

Laura interrupted, "Please. You've had a long day. I'm sure you would enjoy a nice meal and I would enjoy the company… you know girl talk."

Della paused, her hand still resting on the door knob.

"Please," the lawyer purred, "you know you deserve a break and I would love the company."

"I still need to close the office," Della finally announced as she locked the outer door.

"Oh, this is wonderful. I don't mind waiting. Can I help you in any way?"

The secretary moved purposefully across the reception room and into her office. "No, thank you. You can have a seat while I tidy up."

Laura moved to Della's office and settled in, getting comfortable; her eyes became dreamy watching Della move about her office. "_You move with such fluid grace, like a slender __antelope.__ No wonder Perry's eyes might stray."_

The dream was suddenly broken as Della opened the inner office door and disappeared. The lawyer could not resist following her into the dimly lit office. Della sat in Perry's chair, her fingers sorting papers, creating stacks of documents, and memos for tomorrow's work and appointments.

"You make it seems so easy, Miss Street. Katherine was a great help to Perry and it looks like she trained you well."

"_You seem so confident, so comfortable sitting there in his chair, assembling and creating his world for him__." _Laura observed, as she moved to sit in the chair before the desk.

Della looked up, smiled and leaned back in the big chair, stretching her back. "She was a wonderful help to me in the beginning."

The size of Perry's chair seemed to envelope her, like the arms of the man who sat in it. Laura's eyes trailed over to the secretarial chair positioned close to his, so close that when Della sat in it, she could smell his cologne or feel the brush of his clothes against her bare arm or leg. Laura bit the inside of her lip and felt her eyes growing moist.

Della stood and sighed. "Excuse me, I need to freshen up and gather my things."

Laura cleared her voice and called after the retreating secretary, "Certainly." She stood, squared her shoulders and moved in the direction of Della's retreat. "_Get a grip! This is not the time to get emotional; you have a long night ahead of you!"_

The secretary stood in the washroom, combing her hair.

"This is handy," Laura remarked with forced cheer.

Della smiled. "When we're on a case, our schedule can get very hectic. After long hours on the go and without sleep, you need all the help you can get before a full day in court."

"A lot of nights working into the wee hours, I suppose," The lawyer commented as she watched the secretary open the wall cabinet, retrieving a small cosmetic bag from a shelf.

Her eyes focused on the next shelf containing Perry's shaver, cologne, comb and hair gel. _ "Don't let this bother you! It's just toiletries! You've used this room yourself__." _Her chest tightened. _"But_ _Katherine_ _kept her makeup in her side desk drawer_. _ Shared toiletries, shared condiments, shared chairs, shared space, and shared time! What else have they shared?"_

Quickly she turned and walked back into the main office and took several deep breaths._ "__Get a hold of yourself! What__ would Tom Robertson think of his tigress now?" _

"I'm ready," Della announced.

The bar at the Tangerine Room was filled with professionals letting off steam and picking up liquid fortification before heading home to their significant others.

Laura felt her confidence surging when she opened the door to the bar and restaurant and felt the energy inside. The sights, the smells, and the sounds all reminded her of Perry, their dining, dancing, and nights together.

Several men stood near the entrance, nursing drinks, waiting for seats to open at the bar when one observant eye caught sight of the female attorney, fur coat casually falling off her shoulders, followed by Della Street's lithe figure. The observer nudged his friend. His head nodded in the direction of the women, setting off a chain reaction of looks and nudges down the line of men. The man nearest the entrance stepped forward, thinking he would ask the ladies to join them but stopped immediately at Laura's icy stare.

The maitre'd, bowed and smiled at the two women. "Ah, Miss Street and madam, how nice to see you this evening."

Laura cleared her throat, annoyed by the lack of personal recognition.

"It's nice to see you, Phillip. We'd like to have a table, please," Della requested.

"Will Mr. Mason be joining you?" he asked.

Della smiled sweetly, a little embarrassed by the implication. "No, Mr. Mason won't be joining us."

"Ah, that's too bad." he replied with great disappointment. "Would you still like your special table?"

"Yes," Laura stepped forward slightly, "that would be very nice. We'd like that table.

After offering and taking care of Laura's coat, the maitre'd escorted them toward another dining area to a secluded table in a corner far from the prying eyes of the main dance floor and diners. A single globed candle illuminated the round table.

The attorney's eye roamed over the area noting its privacy and soft music as she waited for Della to be seated. _ "So this is the special table, a little island of privacy in an ocean of people and activity, unlike 'our' special table near the dance floor and the center of attention."_

"Phillip, we'd like separate checks, please," Della requested quietly.

Laura started to protest but instead turned to the maitre'd. "And I would like a bottle of chilled Amarone."

"Of course, madam," Phillip nodded and placed menus in front of the women. "Annette is your server and will be with you shortly."

The lawyer gave a sigh of relief as the maitre'd disappeared. "Let's relax, Miss Street. Really, Miss Street, that's so formal. May I call you Della?" She leaned forward. "And by all means, please call me Laura."

Della smiled slightly as she opened the menu. "I agree; it does seem rather formal… Laura."

"This is so wonderful. I just couldn't bear the thought of eating alone at the hotel, especially since I was looking forward to spending the evening with Perry." Laura shook her head. "I can't believe I got the nights mixed up. We're dining out tomorrow, but tonight I do appreciate your company," she cooed.

Della raised her eyes and replied with a small nod before once again moving her attention back to the menu.

A young woman approached their table carrying the bottle of Amarone and two glasses.

"Good evening, Miss Street, madam," Annette, the server, greeted. "Your bottle of Amarone as requested."

Laura leaned forward inspecting the label and smiled. "Perfect."

The young server proceeded to fill their glasses. "Would you like a few more minutes before ordering?"

Both women nodded.

"I think you'll like this wine. It's a rich, dry, Italian wine with power and adventure." Laura leaned closer to Della with a seductive laugh, "powerful and adventurous like our men."

The secretary's lashes fluttered slightly as her cheeks flushed.

_So, I can make you blush! Perfect! _ She observed with delight.

Laura sighed, bringing the glass to her lips for a generous sip, noticing the secretary taking a cautious sip.

"Go ahead, Della, I think you'll find it quite tasty.""_And at sixteen percent alcohol very relaxing."_

"It is quite nice. I'm glad you suggested it," Della complimented as she placed her glass back on the table.

Laura continued thinking out loud. "It's difficult for women like us, attractive women, to work in a man's world. We try being competent and strong, while the men around us see us as mere sex objects."

Della nodded in agreement while folding the menu and taking another sip of wine.

"My mother almost disowned me when she found out I wanted to be an attorney? 'Why can't you be like all the other girls and have those babies?' she would nag." Laura studied the other woman over her wine glass. "What about you? How did your mother feel when she discovered her little debutante wanted to be a secretary? Did she feel betrayed?"

Della's fingers nervously turned the stem of the wine glass, her eyes down-casted. "My mother was very much like yours. She was disappointed._"_

Laura raised her glass and leaned toward the secretary. "Then may I suggest a toast? A toast to 'women who dare'!"

Della nodded in agreement and raised her glass. The women finished off the poured wine and the attorney quickly refilled them.

The server returned. "May I take your order now?" Annette asked.

"A petite sirloin, medium rare, with lyonnaise potatoes, and a house salad with oil and vinegar, please," Della ordered.

"I'll have your cold-water scallops wrapped in lemon phyllo and a house salad with a Greek vinaigrette," Laura announced.

"Thank you ladies," Annette replied and disappeared.

Laura paused, her fingers nervously toying with the napkin on the table. "I remember how excited I was the initial week at my first firm. Finally, I was a lawyer and would have clients and court appearances. I thought I was on top of the world. I was the only female attorney there. The first week of meetings, those who didn't know me, kept asking me to make coffee and bring in the Danishes. They thought I was one of the secretaries." Laura felt the renewed anger growing inside. "One man even asked me to pick up his dry cleaning for him. 'You're one of the secretaries, aren't you?' That's what they were accustomed to the women doing around there. Yeah, I worked my ass off in law school so I could pick up this jerk's dry cleaning!"

_Getting personal aren't you, dragging up those heart wrenching stories of your humble beginnings?"_

Della's fingers reached out and touched the fabric of Laura's dress. "Oh, Laura, how disappointing for you! Did you set them straight?"

"You bet I did!" She grinned with satisfaction. "They never, ever, made that mistake again."

"You had to be strong, didn't you?" Della asked sympathetically, her eyes seeking Laura's, capturing them. "You're a survivor."

Noting the kindness in her eyes and voice, Laura smiled sadly. "Yes, I'm a survivor; that's what I do." "_How__ I wish things were different between us. Under different circumstances you and I might be friends._ _There's a part of you I would truly like to know, that kind nurturing __side, a caring shoulder__ to lean on. But as long as you and I love the same man, we will never be friends."_

Together they turned and quietly sipped their wine while their salads were served.

"I didn't realize I was so hungry," Della observed maneuvering her fork around the delicate spring mix.

Laura aimlessly toyed with her food, her mind drifting. "_The wine should be having its effect.__"_

"You know_, _I could understand how it might feel to have impressive skills, insight and dedication and find yourself trapped in a steno pool of mediocrity. How could you escape this secretarial dead end? Do you latch on to a rising star, a young associate trying to make full partner?" Laura paused, moving her fork around her plate, watching Della's eyelashes flutter. "Do you take on his extra work? Do you work late to finish those projects, to make him shine like a star deserving of promotion?"

Della turned to face her, her lips quivering slightly.

The attorney continued coolly, "Then this associate gets that promotion and how does he show his appreciation for your steadfast loyalty? He selects the stenographer he's been sleeping with to be his new secretary."

She smiled wanly. "Betrayal hurts, doesn't it?"

The secretary averted her eyes.

"Let's toast." Laura raised her glass. "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame one me. Isn't that how it goes?"

Della slowly nodded, bringing her glass to touch Laura's, taking a generous sip of the burgundy liquid.

"I'm sure that will never happen again, will it?"

Della cleared her voice and pushed the salad plate to the side. "Like you, I make mistakes only once."

Annette appeared and gracefully maneuvered the food tray, transferring their meals and retrieving their salad plates before departing.

"_Betrayal is a bitter pill, a __cruel teacher. That man left his mark on __you, a hard lesson to forget._ _You'll think twice before letting __any man betray you again, even if you thought that man was Perry Mason."_

"Life is tough isn't it?" the lawyer continued, swirling the wine in her glass, noting the Amarone bottle quickly depleting.

"But I would consider marriage someday," she continued cheerfully. "Of course, it would have to be to a very special man."

Della's eyes swept up.

"I wouldn't surrender myself to just any man." '_Surrender', aren't we laying it on rather thick? _ "He would need to be Mr. Right," Laura gave a fiendish laugh, "and a delight in bed."

"_Tell me, Della, is he a delight in bed? Have you moved beyond office flirtation? Have you acted on that sexual tension? Give me a sign, a flush of embarrassment, a lowering of your eyes."_

Della's face remained impassive, her eyes growing moist.

"If that special man were to ask me to marry him; I would say 'yes', without hesitation. Would you say 'yes', Della?"

"_I've drawn blood haven't I? Your eyes glisten on the verge of tears. You remain so silent. What secret torments do you shelter?"_

"Perhaps you are married to your career. That's an honorable choice. There's no need to be ashamed; it's a noble calling," Laura said sweetly, slipping a piece of scallop between her lips. The blood from the petite sirloin slowly pooled on Della's plate.

"Come, eat, Della, your steak is getting cold."

Della suddenly straightened, vigorously carving slices from the sirloin. Laura refreshed the Amarone, draining the last drop from the bottle. Della attacked the steak with new fervor while the attorney delicately sliced the scallops.

"_I've pierced you, and now, you slowly bleed. Your heart pounds and your mind races; let those thoughts consume you. Time is on my side. I will wait, and then I will make my final move. You won't see it coming."_

Laura patiently sipped the last of the Amarone, feeling a wonderful tranquility from the wine and that of a job well done.

Quietly Della finished her meal and sipped her wine.

"A very prestigious law firm, Robertson, Stein, Moore and Whittier, in Denver has asked Perry to join them as an associate partner. It's really quite an honor. Has he mentioned it to you?" Laura swirled the glass, enjoying how the secretary's eyes widened.

Della released a gentle sigh, "No, he hasn't mentioned it."

The attorney brought her fingers to her lips feigning a dramatic faux pas. "I'm sorry. I thought you knew. I shouldn't have said anything."

She lowered her hand, her eyes looking around as though trying to find the words to correct her mistake. "The firm has a wealth of experienced secretaries on hand and would be able to take on his work load without delay. I'm dreadfully sorry. I thought you knew."

Della calmly placed her fork and steak knife across her plate and pushed it to the side and sipped her wine.

Annette approached their table. "Ladies, would you care for a dessert tonight?"

Della spoke up immediately. "No thank you, Annette; we need our checks please."

"_No Annette, the dessert has already been served. Tomorrow night Perry and I will be by the fire, and it will be like old times. But now the finishing touch."_

"Maybe I can help. Ted Driscoll, senior partner at Driscoll, Dundee and Pierce, is searching for an experienced executive secretary. The pay is excellent and the hours are strictly nine to five. I understand he handles some overseas business. You could travel the world."

Annette slipped the check booklets across the table and removed the dinner plates.

Della waited till the server had disappeared before beginning, her fingers gently stroking the brocade tablecloth. "I trust Perry," she stated calmly.

"I'm sure you do," the attorney countered.

"We're a team and if he were serious about joining a firm he would have told me."

Laura folded her hands in front of her. "Sometimes certain personal situations make relating that information to others very difficult and unpleasant." She shook her head in disbelief. "So you're going to be steadfast and loyal."

Della smiled sweetly, opened the booklet and slipped the money inside. "Steadfast and loyal, that's what I do."

The lawyer nodded.

"Well, Laura," a radiant smile appeared on Della's face as she extended her hand, "this has been a most interesting evening."

Laura's eyes widened at the sudden brilliant smile and the offered hand. Wordlessly she took it and felt strong fingers encircle hers.

"I have a busy day tomorrow," the secretary began, still holding the lawyer's hand. "May I say your performance has been most memorable."

Della leaned in closer, the candlelight reflecting on her eyes, the pressure on the attorney's hand increasing ever so slightly. "Did the evening go according to your plan; did we play our parts well?" she asked evenly, delivering a seductive wink, watching her opponent's face drain of color.

"_What is this?" _The lawyer's eyebrows knitted together. _"My performance! Our parts!" _

Della's eyes harden. "Don't confuse my good nature with weakness," she stated in a smooth tone tinged with an eerily calm voice.

A wave of trepidation passed through the other woman, her eyes studying the contradiction of the smiling lips and firm but controlled pressure on her hand. Her fingers were beginning to actually hurt.

Abruptly, Della released her grip and stood. Laura jerked her hand away, and placed it in her lap out of sight, vigorously massaging it back into life. She watched her opponent in amazement. "_She's as steady as a rock."_

Della gracefully moved around the table and stood, her hand resting on her hip. "You're right, Laura."

The other woman looked up, wondering what could possibly happen next.

"The Amarone is quite tasty." She smiled radiantly, winked and in her sweetest voice, "Good night!"

Della started to turn and then stopped. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a man's handkerchief. "I forgot to give this back to Perry, but since it has your lipstick on it, maybe you'd like to return it to him tomorrow night." She placed the linen on the table and then said softly. "He is very…. appreciative… of the way I manage details…tie up loose ends, especially before meeting with a client."

For the first time that evening, Laura Donaldson was at a loss for words as she watched Perry's secretary cross the restaurant floor with an air of self-possession.

~tbc~


	3. Chapter 3

_Laura's Lost Love-Chapter 3_

_An evening with Perry_

"_Damn hangover, damn Amarone. Of course, those shots of whiskey at the bar didn't help." _

Carefully Laura brought the cigarette to her mouth, eyes closed, thankful for the dim light. She had been soaking in the roman tub for an hour, trying to will away the throbbing pain in her temples, smoking one cigarette after another, the ashtray on the side of the tub forming a delicate pyramid of ash and stubs.

"_Take a note; speak with Emmitt about those pills. They are totally useless." 'The pills should ward off those spells of depression; they'll make you feel like your old self again', he reassured. "Humph! The men at the bar, who bought the shots of whiskey, soothed my damaged ego better than those pills. However, Emmitt and his pharmaceuticals are the least of my problems." _

She exhaled, slowly opening her eyes, watching the smoke gently rising above her.

"_She was right. I did underestimate her. While I was conducting my research, she'd obviously been doing some of her own, probably Paul or Gertie. Give yourself a break; even the most skilled tigress is not successful in every hunt. On any given day, the antelope could be the winner in the battle of life and death. But is she really an antelope? I may have misjudged you, Della. 'Don't confuse my good nature with weakness,' you warned. Perhaps you are a tigress after all." _

A leg slowly rose through the mounds of bubbles, then a toe, as she carefully stretched. Her eyes moved over the column of ash clinging to the end of the smoldering cigarette. The simple act of flicking it into the ashtray reminded her of the secretary's firm grip and the determination behind it.

"_What could have possibly gone wrong?" She had pushed all the sensitive buttons, and yet, Della had smiled and winked at her. "Face it, Laura, you were played."_

The lawyer angrily ground out the cigarette in the tray causing ash and stubs to fall in the tub and over the side. Waves of bubbles crashed around the edge as she rose from the tub, grabbing a towel from the rack.

"_You didn't see it coming… and by a damn secretary no less!" _

She angrily wrapped the towel around her chest. Using her left hand, she wiped the mist from the bathroom mirror. Slowly an area cleared and she was able to see the reflection of her own red puffy eyes. The image fogged slightly and Della's piercing eyes appeared. Eyes that had not backed down but instead had planned their own stealth attack.

"_You're a survivor, aren't you?" The secretary's soothing voice consoled._

Laura's lip quivered recalling how Della had reached out to touch her, to comfort her. "_Were you playing me then?_" The thought surprisingly saddened her. She wished they could be friends, because in reality she had few. _ "You would be a steadfast and loyal friend_ _I'm sure._ _I'm jealous, Perry, for you are so fortunate in that regard." _ She started to toss her head and thought better of it._ /_"_Damn it. Don't get sentimental. You don't have time for such luxuries."_

She ran her fingers through her wet hair and gripped the sides of the sink. _What would Tom say? He'd say, 'Clear your mind, Laura. You know what you want and you know what it takes to get it. You've come this far; there's no turning back.'"_

She lifted her chin defiantly. "I know what I want, Tom," she whispered, "and I know how to get it. I want Perry…with me…in Denver." She turned and looked into the foggy mirror and smiled. Court was still in session and she was very, very good at closing arguments.

_Later that evening at the Tangerine Room_

Laura Donaldson carefully applied new lipstick in the powder room of the Tangerine Room. Leaning back she inspected the face in the mirror and smiled.

"_You look like a new woman."_

She felt like a new woman and yet the feelings were hard to describe. The moment she slipped into the car and slid across the seat to kiss Perry, she felt transported back to the fast, hot, exciting times when they were lovers.

This time the maitre'd remembered and wanted to escort them to their special table near the dance floor. Instead, Laura had casually redirected them, claiming to want a more private table. She wanted the table she and Della had used the night before. The symbolism was important to her. If Perry was uncomfortable with her new selection, he hid it easily.

The meal was eaten without thought; all her senses were focused on him. Watching his every move, the way he gestured with his expressive hands when he spoke, the warmth of his smile and the way his eyes expressed more than mere words. Reaching out, she touched him, his arm, a fleeting touch to his thigh. She couldn't get enough. Leaning in close to hear him or whisper something to him,he inhaled his cologne and felt light-headed.

"_How could I ever love anyone else?" _ She brushed away the tickling memory of Glen and the diamond ring in her purse pocket.

Feeling on cloud nine, she told Perry of her times in Denver, the power of Tom Robertson's firm and its standing in the city and state. She related the names of their powerful and influential clients and how they easily mingled with them at concerts, charity balls and fundraisers.

Perry nursed his wine, smiling, watching her enthusiasm. Then he said it, his hand reaching across the table touching hers in encouragement. "I'm so happy for you, Laura." His touch coursed through her like electricity. Unfortunately, it was short lived when the impact of his words set in. She smiled slightly, and excused herself from the table.

"What the hell did that mean? I'm happy for you!" she muttered out loud.

_Focus! I know you wanted to hear 'Oh Laura, I wish I were there with you. How can I be part of all those wonderful things you've described?' It's not as bad as you think._

The door opened and a small group of women entered the quiet powder room off the main bathroom. Laura eased herself around the group and back into the restaurant. Threading her way through the tables she approached their secluded table. Any anger she felt suddenly melted away. Perry sat hands neatly folded, the light from the candle reflecting off his blue eyes and the two filled glasses sitting on the table.

Laura beamed as she took her seat. "You remembered."

"Gimlet with lime, just the way you like it," he replied softly.

"Let's make a toast, Perry."

He nodded in agreement.

She thought for a moment and raised her glass to his. "May we always be as happy as we are this very moment."

Their glasses gently touched, both becoming silent while savoring their drinks. Laura felt her heart racing at the possibility. Could it be possible she would always be this happy?

"Perry did I tell you about our firm's largest corporate takeover?"

He shook his head, leaning back in his chair watching her intently. "I'm sure you were a major player."

She grinned in delight. "Oh, Perry, it was fabulous. Our client, Gendyne, wanted to acquire a large electronics company called Omnicor. It was a hostile takeover, but it didn't play that way. I managed to slip it through the backdoor and avoid all those nuisance suits to force Omnicor to sell. Their stockholders hadn't a clue."

Perry leaned forward, his eyes narrowed in interest, his chin resting on his propped fist. "So how did you pull this off?"

"Quick and lethal. It all came down to the snake pit, the proxy counting room. You know the atmosphere in those places."

He chuckled knowingly. "They're like the wild, wild west of the corporate world. So did you shoot up the place?"

She laughed softly and played coy. "You and Bull paint such a violent picture of me."

"We know you! I believe Bull described you as a firecracker!" His left eyebrow arched, the corner of his mouth pulling up in a mischievous grin. "Gotten a little singed a few times myself."

She waved her hand in dismissal. "The snake pit was like an old boys club, cursing, cigars, scotch, and of all things watermelon. The inspector of elections wore a little visor and chewed on a huge unlit stogy. The lawyers from Omnicor were in a huddle when I came in the room. Suddenly the party atmosphere fell to a hush. I wore an emerald green silk dress and heels. Their lead attorney looked up and barked out for the whole room to hear, "What the hell! Who called in a working girl?"

Perry leaned back, laughing, shaking his head.

Laura beamed and sipped the gimlet. "I approached the election official and introduced myself as the attorney for Gendyne, and that I was there to approve or eliminate questionable proxies. The attorneys from Omnicor looked at each other and laughed."

Perry sipped the gimlet and grinned. "And I gather that was the last time they laughed."

"You bet. As the proxies were counted, the numbers were evenly matched. I knew the type of proxies that had still to be counted. I had researched them all and prepared my objections."

Perry's eyes narrowed in thought, his fingertips gently moving across his lips. He smiled. "Of course, snake pits are informal, unruly and contentious and are far different than the formal and orderly rules of court proceedings."

Laura nodded in agreement, loving their moment of comradery. "Their attorneys did not take me seriously, calling me 'Honey', 'Sweetie'. Gendyne slipped ahead and a few proxies remained to be counted. I knew exactly what remained. Everyone stood around the election official as the proxies were presented. I began my list of objections. Of course they tried to talk over me. I leaned in closer to the election official so I could be heard. Their lead attorney stepped closer blocking my way." She paused and took a sip of her drink. Perry leaned in closer, his arms folded on the table, waiting anxiously for the rest of her story.

Laura resumed. "The lead said, 'you better step back sister.' I went chin to chin with him and asked, 'Are you man enough to make me?' One of his own attorneys pulled on his arm, trying to remind him the firm did not strike women."

He chuckled loudly. "I remember well some of our heated arguments."

"Their lead actually grabbed the collar of my dress in his fist and pulled me toward him. I stuck my finger in his face and told him through gritted teeth he'd better take his best shot because it was up to him whether Omnicor went down hard or easy."

Perry could barely contain a roar so as not to draw any undo attention, palms gracefully turned up as though weighing the judgment. "Well, Laura, was it hard or easy?"

She smiled sweetly. "Omnicor went down easy, with 3 ballots in favor of Gendyne's takeover. However, their lead attorney went down hard. He cursed, slammed his briefcase around the room and stormed out, followed by his mousey compatriots."

He drained the glass, shaking his head. "Well…there's nothing like a good legal war story."

Laura sat back in her chair with satisfaction. "I thought you would enjoy it." _I know Tom did. _"Perry, why don't we finish at your place? You can tell me about your cases on the way to your apartment."

_Perry's apartment_

"Let me get this straight…. hitchhikers, exotic dancers, waitresses, juvenile delinquents, damsels in distress, a flock of the elderly, Chinese caretakers, thieves of every description, jockeys and …., " Laura's hands were sweeping the air as Perry unlocked his door and stood to the side for her to enter. In the apartment, she turned and with a look of bewilderment asked, "Where do you find these people?"

Perry laughed as he closed the door behind them, slipped her fur coat from her shoulders and placed it on the hall tree. Laura held her hands out in a questioning manner, waiting for his response.

He grinned good-naturedly and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Where do I find these people?" He repeated, paused, and then shrugged his shoulders. "They come through the door."

Her mouth dropped open; her eyes widened. "You take just anyone? Don't you have clients on permanent retainer?"

"It has been a long time." He shook his head and laughed. "Of course, I have clients on permanent retainer, but you forget. I'm a trial lawyer specializing in murder cases not corporate law. For most people a murder charge is a once in a lifetime event and a matter of life in prison or the gas chamber. And no, I don't take just any case. My secretary, Della, screens most of my clients and is a big part of my client selection."

Laura was amazed and tried to hide it in her tone. "Your secretary determines the merit of a case?"

Perry jingled the change in his pockets and smiled softly. "Let's just say I value her opinion and she hasn't disappointed me yet."

She nodded in understanding.

He slipped his hands from his pockets. "I'll start the fire, if you want to prepare the drinks."

"_Well, that was certainly interesting. My secretary knows enough to keep her mouth shut and do her job."_

Laura began to place the strap of her bag on the hall tree when her hand swept across the softness of cashmere. Her fingers knew the sensation intimately and continued the search beneath her fur coat. She could hear Perry near the fireplace speaking, his words meaningless as her mind processed her discovery.

Slipping the garment lose from the hook she pulled out a rose cashmere sweater with matching natural pearl buttons. The garment was luxurious and the scent still clinging to the fibers seemed familiar. She brought it to her nose and inhaled. _"Della…..the office and now here, will it never end?"_

"I'm afraid the fire will be a small one. I have several early appointments tomorrow morning and then we have a deposition in Culver City around noon," Perry continued.

"Of course," Laura answered in blank agreement not paying attention to his words as she looked around. _"Thank goodness the kitchen remains the same."_

"How about a drink?" she suggested out loud, heading into the kitchen. "Do you have some of that wonderfully smooth bourbon you like so much?"

She retrieved glasses from the cabinet and located the bottle of bourbon. Opening the refrigerator freezer, she took out the trays and filled the ice bucket. Then she saw them… sitting in a bowl with a pair of Perry's cufflinks, elegant Burmese jade clip-on earrings. _"Oh, this is too much!"_

Laura dropped the ice cube trays in the sink and stepped back. She grabbed the bottle of bourbon and poured two fingers of the liquid into the empty glass and drank it in one gulp. Perry spoke to her again. She turned and there, hanging on a hook by the kitchen doorway, a simple white brocaded apron.

She poured another glass of bourbon. _"Focus! Don't become distracted."_

Methodically she placed their glasses, ice bucket and drink bottle on a tray and returned to the living room.

Perry had slipped out of his coat and tie; the cuffs of his dress shirt were rolled. Kneeling by the hearth, his fingers delicately arranged the dry tender, nursing the fire along.

"You know, Perry, you mentioned the life and death nature of your practice. I'm concerned."

He looked up from his fire in surprise.

"In your situation, a distraction, an error in judgment could be devastating to your client," Laura said, lowering the tray to the end table.

Curiosity and concern spread across his face.

"_You should be concerned. I may be saving your reputation, and directing you to your rightful place… with me."_

"I'm concerned that your secretary may be a distraction to you."

"A distraction?" He repeated in disbelief.

She smiled and winked. "I saw how you were watching Miss Street lean over your desk. These office situations can create problems, you know, important details being forgotten when your thoughts aren't where they're supposed to be."

He pushed the kindling down in the ashes causing the developing flame to die out. He shook his head, and laughed in disbelief as he stared into the fireplace.

"_Are we at a loss for words. You know I'm right. Are you angry? Please argue with me; it will be like foreplay."_

Finally he rose and stood above her, at first he grinned like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Alright, I admit it, I like the view; it pleases me." Then his mood changed. Lacing his fingers together and leaning back on his heels, his eyes grew instantly cooler.

Laura stood and stepped toward him, looking up into his face. "So you like looking at her?"

He elevated his chin, his tone sharp. "Yes, like any other breathing man. She's very attractive, as you have so duly noted. But it takes more than a pretty face to run a law office. If she couldn't handle the job, she and her pretty face would be out on the sidewalk and you know that."

"Really?" Laura countered stepping closer.

"You should know me well enough not to think otherwise." Perry said sharply stepping closer to her. "In my world, a pretty face and feminine charm will only get you so far. I would never jeopardize my practice or my clients over one. And if they put my client's future at risk and turn out to be the guilty party, when I'm finished, they'll serve their time like all the rest_."_

Slowly she reached out and let her fingertips trail along the buttons of his shirt, feeling his heart pounding through the fabric. "I know; truth and justice will prevail. We've had this discussion before."

He studied her closely. "And always with the same ending."

He turned back to the barely warm embers and studied them for a moment before turning back to her. "I'm very fortunate to have Della. We've shared the same ideals from the very beginning. Even in her interview, she had unusual insight into what she could do to help the office run efficiently and successfully, how she could help me represent my clients to my fullest potential, and," he shook his head, "even why I chose to practice law in the first place. She is very good with both the big picture," he frowned slightly, "details, and watching my back."

Laura took a sip of her drink. "It seems Katherine's retirement occurred a few months before Tom Robertson issued you the first interview invitation. The interview you were always too busy to accept."

He nodded. "I've been very busy enjoying what I do and the people who help make it work."

Abruptly he turned and walked to the end table and filled his glass with ice and bourbon.

"You know I'm just concerned. I'm only thinking of you."

"_I know you can't believe it but it's true. I am thinking of you. Let the court appointed attorneys handle the cases you've been taking, your talent is being wasted here. Can't you see that?"_

"Perry," she cooed, circling around him and placing her hands on his chest. "Remember our nights before the fire?"

The lawyer continued to drink the bourbon.

"You remember don't you?"

His free arm circled her shoulders and pulled her toward him. "I remember," he answered softly and heaved a giant sigh.

"_I could stay here forever, just hold me."_

Delicately her fingers slipped open a shirt button and kissed the small exposed area of his chest and felt his body shiver, his free hand reaching down and taking hers.

"Please," he spoke softly, "not now."

Desperately, she tried to mask the surprise.

"You know we could relive those nights again," she whispered, looking up and meeting eyes that surprised her. They weren't hot and intense, as she had hoped, only resigned.

"_What's happening? I don't understand. This is not how it should be."_

"Perry," she countered, "don't you see you can do better, far better. The people off the street cases you take can be handled by court appointed attorneys. You have too much talent to settle for this type of practice. Far more important cases deserve your attention, your expertise. I'm only thinking of you."

Suddenly he released her hands and paced a few steps. His hand ran through his hair and he drained the last of his bourbon in one gulp, sitting the glass down on the table. Shaking his head, he gave an ironic laugh. "You know, Laura. I remember those nights you mentioned. I recall we were a volatile mix, our lovemaking intense and exciting. I also recall our arguments….intense and draining."

"_Draining?" _Laura nervously watched his response to her defense. She knew him well enough to remain quiet. Her lip began to tremble, the desire to fight with him ebbing.

"And the arguments haven't changed….not in all this time." He slowly walked toward her, his manner becoming gentle again. "You still don't get it….do you?"

Tenderly he spoke to her, in a tone a parent would use with willful child. "You talk about my cases as though they are beneath me." He gestured with his hands. "It's not about what the cases do for us. It's not about us at all; it's about the client. They come to me for help, many of them on the verge of losing everything they've worked for…including maybe their life. And it's my job to make sure truth and justice happens for them, regardless of power and money. That's what I do."

The room became uncomfortably silent.

Laura fought back a wave of emotions and finally whispered, "I'm sorry."

Slipping his hands in his pockets, Perry simply nodded.

_Outside the Carlton Hotel_

The ride from the apartment to the Carlton seemed like an eternity. The cars, buildings, and street lights whirled by, the thoughts in her head spinning, her body growing numb, the silence unbearable.

"_Why can't a car just collide with us and kill me now, end the pain?"_

Perry pulled to the curb beyond the bright lights of the Carlton's entrance and started to open his door when he felt her hand on his arm.

"No," a small voice requested.

Leaning back in the seat, elbow resting on the car door, Mason stared forward, eyes narrowed in thought.

Laura felt small and vulnerable. Rarely did she feel this way and it was uncomfortable. Reality was crashing around her and she felt herself slipping over the edge into darkness. Perhaps darkness was what she craved, a place where you didn't feel, a place void of love, hate, or worse….heartache.

The silence was broken when he cleared his voice and heaved a great sigh. His voice was thick with emotion, his eyes focused ahead as he began. "I remember our first night together and how it held such promise."

Slowly she turned to face him in wonder. All the while, she had thought the silence was an indication that he despised her. His words drew her, causing her to move closer to him.

Mason turned to her, with a soft and caring voice. "I don't regret meeting you or being with you. But we are just….." His voice trailed off for a moment, his eyes moving in thought. "… very different people who value and want different things in life. You chose to go and I've chosen to stay." He paused for a moment. "And we both made the decision based on what is really important to us?"

"_Don't cry! You know once it starts you won't stop."_

Cautiously she reached out and touched his shoulder. Instantly she felt his hand reach for hers as he turned in the seat to face her. Its touch sent chills through her body. _"Oh, Perry, why do you do this to me; why will you always seduce me without even trying? Your eyes, the touch of your hand, the strength of your body against mine, how will I manage to go on without you? Could I come back here and be happy? Do you even want me to try?"_

Slowly he brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them, his voice touched with emotion. "We are, who we are, and time will never change that."

Tears welled in her eyes and she knew; she knew with all her heart what he was saying as the words slipped from her lips, "I know." She had her answer.

"_Go, Laura, go while you can."_

Timidly she spoke, "It seems like I always have a plane to catch."

Perry smiled knowingly; his fingertips reaching out, gently stroking her cheek, comforting her.

Inhaling deeply, gathering her last shred of strength, she leaned forward and kissed him gently, feeling the softness of his lips one last time. Pressing against him, feeling the strength and warmth of his chest, her cheek against his, the tears began. She inhaled his cologne, and whispered in his ear, "You know I'll always love you."

"_Go! Now!"_

Swiftly, she pulled away, slid across the seat, opened the door and hit the sidewalk, the door slamming shut behind her.

"_Walk, don't look back!"_

A little while later, Perry Mason entered his apartment, placed his jacket on the hall tree and felt the familiar softness of the cashmere sweater. He sank down on his divan and stared at his phone. After a moment, he picked up the receiver and dialed a familiar number. A throaty 'hello' answered. "I know it's late…" he began.

"How did it go?"

"As expected." His fingers massaged his tired eyes as her voice and reply soothed away his melancholy thoughts. He was glad the evening had happened, and he was glad it was over. It had been necessary for each of them to truly move on to their separate futures.

He smiled. "Thanks. I'll see you first thing in the morning… and by the way I found your earrings …They were on the kitchen counter. You must have taken them off when Paul called. I saw them before leaving for dinner."

He paused, his eyes sweeping to the door. "And I just noticed your sweater on the hall tree…. Not a problem we were in a hurry... In fact," he turned his head, "I kinda like having it there….adds a little glamour and reminds me of the woman who wears it, soft and beautiful …..yeah….I'll be in around eight so we can go over those papers one more time….. good… see you then….You too."

He laid the receiver back on its cradle and felt his body relax deeper into the cushions as the last 'pop' sounded from the cooling ashes. Any lingering questions had been asked and answered. There was no reason for him to catch any plane. Everything he wanted was right here.

_~tbc~_


	4. Chapter 4

_Laura's Lost Love- Chapter 4_

_Conclusion-_

_In memory of Jean Simmons. I hope my Laura is worthy of your talent._

_"_Mommie, how fast are we going?" The little eight year old girl tugged on her parent's arm while looking out the window of the large jet. The plane banked over a sea of black and a myriad of twinkling lights. The engines whined, still ascending, as the plane turned toward the eastern horizon.

"I don't know, Vanessa. We'll be at Grandma's in no time," the mother answered, then popped a piece of gum into her mouth.

Vanessa watched with fascination as the lights fanned out in all directions. The plane continued to turn, the sky rimmed with an edge of light from the approaching sunrise. The little girl wiggled beneath the confining seat belt, and then leaned out to check on the other passengers in first class.

The woman sitting across the aisle near the window caught her eye. A royal blue scarf elegantly covered her hair and draped over each shoulder, her eyes hidden behind a pair of designer black sunglasses. A full-length fur, lying next to her, glistened in the dim overhead light.

"Mommie," Vanessa shook her mother's arm and then pointed, "is she a movie star?"

Following her daughter's finger, the young woman took in the lone woman sitting across the aisle from them. "I….. don't …know," the mother answered slowly, trying to make the determination.

"I think she is a movie star!" Vanessa said louder. The mother grabbed her daughter's finger and scolded. "It's not nice to point, and you're too loud."

Laura's eyes shifted behind the sunglasses, looking at the mother and daughter, trying to steal glances at her without being too obvious. A trace of a smile pulled at the corner of her lips. "_ Movie star, indeed. My eyes are red and swollen and I feel like hell. But you are a darling child to think so." _

Laura sighed and turned her attention to the lights below. In an hour, Los Angeles would be bathed by the dawn of a new day. Beneath the ascending plane, ribbons of lights outlined the streets and major thoroughfares. Perry would be leaving his apartment and driving along those streets. In a building below, he would take the elevator to his office and he would sit at his desk and look at the organized world Della Street had created for him, a world of which she was not a part.

A tear welled up and slipped from the corner of her eye. Was it possible? She thought she had cried them all last night. Her fingers reached up and wiped it away.

In an hour she would be in Phoenix and then a short car ride to the spa. She still had three days before returning to Denver and her reality. Glen would be happy for her return and would want to pamper her. And then of course there was Tom Robertson. She closed her eyes and recalled their last time together.

_The building was eerily quiet as Laura eased open the door to Tom Robertson's office. The lawyer sat at his desk, chair turned, staring out at the Denver panorama, nursing a drink and cigarette._

_"You rang?" she called in a husky voice._

_He laughed and waved his hand for her to enter. Silently she glided across the room and took up her familiar position in the corner of the glass walled office. Several minutes passed as they watched the sun slowly descend to the horizon, the office changing hues as the daylight decreased._

_Her eyes trailed over him, his white shirtsleeves rolled, red tie loosely hanging around his neck and the usual red suspenders and gray pants. His white hair was smoothed back from a still flawless patrician face. He was still an incredibly desirable man who, even in a relaxed state, exuded power. _

_Finally the silence was broken. "This engagement to Glen is a good thing," he stated matter-of-factly._

_Laura held out her left hand and let the last remaining sunlight play off the facets of her engagement ring._

_He sat down his drink and continued his hold on a cigarette, his eyes moving over her. "I know what it's like to want and need something badly and not have it." _

_When Laura continued to watch the changing shadows, he sighed. "Right now, my wife and her friends are in Paris spending vast amounts of my fortune on designer clothing she will wear only once or perhaps not at all." He inhaled again on the cigarette, his eyes trailing over Laura's shapely figure. He shook his head. "Margaret and I, it's like we live in two different worlds. Oh, we share a common bank account, a son, and a small amount of required time together, but that's all." _

_Laura stared down at the ring on her finger and thought of Tom's words and their implication but remained silent._

_Suddenly the senior lawyer exhaled loudly. "What I'm trying to say is, I know what's it's like to want and need something. I know what you want and it's bothering you."_

_Without looking at him, she asked, "How do you deal with it?"_

_He flicked ashes in a marble ashtray. "I work late, fortify myself with alcohol, and take cold showers."_

_Laura turned to face him and their eyes met; she could feel the intensity in his eyes. "Does it help?"_

_His voice was hard. "No."_

"_I'm sorry," she whispered her eyes still held by his._

"_My son loves you very much and I think you will be good for Glen. But I know you, Laura. We're cut from the same cloth. It's not like you to give up on something you want and need."_

"_Have you given up?" she asked._

_Tom turned, ground out the cigarette and walked to her side, his hand moving to smooth back his hair. She could smell the mix of whiskey and his cologne and felt the heat of his body next to hers._

"_I think you know me by now, Laura. I do what needs to be done. Now you need to do what needs to be done."_

_She looked up into his face just inches from hers. "You make it sound so easy?"_

_Gently his fingertips moved along the angle of her jaw and lips, stopping beneath her chin and lifting it. She felt herself pulled toward him, her fingertips gently resting on his chest, his lips close to hers. "No, it's not easy," he breathed. _

_His eyes moved over her face, his voice soft and urgent. "I know once I cross that line I won't have the strength or desire to stop. I never said it was easy, Laura, only that it must be done."_

_Abruptly he lowered his hand and stepped back taking her hands in his. He inhaled deeply, regaining his composure, his chin squared, gathering his words. "It won't be long 'till you'll be my daughter-in-law. You need to settle this Mason thing."_

_Laura bit her lips, averted her eyes, trying to avoid his words._

"_You won't be happy until you settle this lost love of yours." Tom brought her fingers to his lips. "If things were different, I think I could make you forget him or a least not want him so much. I know I would try my damndest." _

_Laura's head turned as she felt the softness of his lips and the warmth of his breath. His eyes captured hers as he gently kissed her fingertips. "If nothing else; do it for me," he whispered._

"For you, Tom," Laura whispered as she retrieved the engagement ring from her purse and slipped it on her finger. _"You're right, Della. I am a survivor ; that's what I do."_

Laura heard renewed whispers from across the aisle; a female voice spoke. "I'm sorry to bother you ma'am, but my little girl insists you're a movie star."

The attorney forced a pleasant smile, and gently smoothed back the silken scarf from her hair. "A movie star?"

The mother flushed slightly in embarrassment. "I must confess you do remind me a little of the British actress, Jean Simmons."

Laura laughed lightly. "You are so kind."

The little girl grabbed her mother's arm. "See Mommie. I told you she was a movie star. Ask her for an autograph."

The mother looked nervously between her daughter and the attorney. "If it wouldn't be a bother, would you mind?"

"Not at all." Laura slipped a pen from her purse as the mother searched for a pad of paper.

The attorney took the pad and waited. "Oh, just say, 'To Vanessa', that's my daughter's name," the mother instructed.

Gracefully she moved the pen over the paper, signing 'Jean Simmons' with an elegant flourish.

"There, Vanessa, thank you for making my day," Laura said with sincere warmth, as she handed the autograph across the aisle to the mother.

The little girl took the pad and stared at it. Then, at a nudge from her mother, spoke up, "Your welcome and thank you too."

To her surprise, the 'actress' found her mood lifting and actually chuckled .

"Thank you, Miss Simmons." The mother looked nervously around at the other seats hoping no one had overheard them. "We'll keep this a secret."

Laura nodded in agreement and renewed her thoughts staring out the window at the distant horizon.

_"Yes, Laura, you're a survivor. You take what life brings you and work it to your advantage. It's who you are."_


	5. Chapter 5

Laura's Lost Love- Chapter 5

Epilogue

Alert: The Epilogue contains sexual innuendo and discussions and thoughts of suicide. Please use discretion.

Laura's Return to Denver…

_Shere Khan, in Hindi, 'Shere' means tiger, 'Khan' means king. "Tiger King"_

Wearily, passengers pulled bags from the airline conveyor belt. Groaning with fatigue, they carried their burdens toward the loading zone like a nomadic tribe on the move. In the distance, the sound of high heels grew increasing louder like an approaching storm. Over the rumble of conversations, the proximity of the sound drew the attention of those in its path, their bodies turning to see the source of the approaching footsteps, thus allowing the figure to easily breeze through the crowd.

Eyes covered by sunglasses, fur coat swaying from her shoulders, blue scarf bellowing like a sail, Laura Donaldson moved through the crowd like a prow of a destroyer. _"Get me out of this wretched place __and away from these__ people! Where is the damn limo?"_

The furred woman, whose only luggage was the designer purse on her arm, passed by the passengers as though they were airport fixtures not human beings. At the curb a long black limo idled, a driver dressed in a dark suit and tie busily loaded suitcases into the cavernous trunk. "_Thank god, the limo is here. Let this moment be over!"_

The driver hurried to open the rear door for her.

"Welcome back, Miss Donaldson," the driver greeted, bowing slightly as he held the door for her. She gave a slight toss of her head in acknowledgment, then slipped inside the vehicle.

The interior of the limo was spacious. Two white leather bench seats faced each other, the smell of tobacco, bourbon and cologne wafted through the doorway. A newspaper and a pair of men's trousers were visible from the forward facing seat as Laura sat across from the other passenger. A small vanity light illuminated the interior with a dim glow. The door closed behind her.

Though at first his lack of attention surprised and irritated her even further, she quickly rationalized it to her benefit. _"Go ahead, keep reading that damn paper!_ _I really can't bear the thought of dealing with you tonight, Glen." _Delicately, she removed the silk scarf from her hair, took off the sunglasses and slid the fur coat from her shoulders.

The car moved forward, pulling into traffic. She watched the newspaper swaying with the car's every movement. The fingers gripping the paper's edge were neatly manicured and devoid of jewelry. She frowned, still annoyed. Her eyes moved beyond the luxurious interior, and tinted windows to the shadowed skyline of Denver.

_"So this is it? This is life without Perry. What's wrong with the life you have with Glen? Can't you find comfort with the man who adores the ground you walk on and caters to your every need? The man has a pleasant manner reminiscent of that monotonous warm bath you love. _

_Think about it, the stage could be set with a few pills and alcohol. Your depression is deepening; you're already on the edge. You only need a little nudge to slip over the side and into that hot bath, __let the pain and despair of your life well up inside until you can stand it no more. You have__ enough of those damn pills that they should be good for something. Just go to sleep and never wake up. Let others clean up the mess. You'd like that wouldn't you? Do it tonight! No one will be looking for you or disturbing you. Tonight you could slip over the edge."_

The newspaper, rustled slightly and dipped, a pair of dark brown eyes secretly watched her every move. "So my tigress has returned with her tail between her legs," the masculine voice coarsely announced lowering the newspaper.

Laura's head turned and locked with the dark brown eyes of Tom Robertson, her face pulling into an angry frown.

"Go to hell, Tom!" she snapped.

He stared for a moment, enjoying the dramatic pause, then laughed, dropping the paper to the seat beside him. His eyes moved appreciatively over her. He winked, a smile pulling at his lips, "That's my girl!"

"You heard me!" she repeated.

"And to what part of hell should I go?" He tilted his head. "The part where you reside?"

Her eyes flared. "You have your nerve!"

"Yes, I do and welcome back, my tigress," Tom softly purred as he crossed his legs, his eyes sparkling. Gracefully he took out his cigarette case and lighter. "I could have Bernard stop by my office for our nightly chat."

Laura crossed her arms, chin elevated in defiance. "I'm not in the mood to talk to you."

Tom took two cigarettes from his case, placed them between his lips, flipped open his lighter and lit them. His eyes narrowed, watching her through the wisps of cigarette smoke.

Skillfully he removed the cigarettes and handed one to her. "You know you want to talk with me, Laura."

Slowly she leaned across and took the cigarette, placed it between her lips and inhaled. "Why should I bother ?"

"Because you know you need to."

Laura shook her head and looked off.

The car moved through the streets like a dark missile, Bernard taking the quickest routes. The lights from the skyline slipped by like constellations on a starship.

"I know you're glad I'm not Glen. He's in Boulder tonight meeting with a client," the older lawyer stated.

She continued to stare out the window, mechanically smoking the cigarette.

Tom's eyes moved along her shapely legs, noting how the hem of the green silk dress had slipped several inches above her knee. "You're not ready for Glen's loving attention, catering to your every need, treating you like a queen."

Her eyes shot to his face in annoyance.

He smoothed down the front of his navy vest and straightened his red tie. "Yes, treating you like a queen, you heard me right."

Her eyes followed the work of his fingers, noting how the cut of his three piece suit accentuated his broad shoulders and still trim physique. His body language oozed confidence, control and virility, like the tiger king, Shere Khan.

Tom continued with his one-sided narrative. "No," he drew out the word, "tonight you need to feel alive again….to be met head on…not coddled." He raised an eyebrow. "Of course, you can be alone tonight. Bernard can whisk you directly to your apartment, where you can brood the night away…or worse."

Laura's eyes widened slightly.

"Yes, go ahead and look at me with that wide-eyed feminine awe." He looked off for a moment, thinking. "You think I don't know what you're going through? Haven't been there myself? Why the hell do you think I'm here?" Then his eyes locked on to hers. "I didn't get this far by not recognizing my own kind and not being able to anticipate their next move."

He leaned slightly forward. "When I told you to fix this Mason thing, I knew it would not be easy for you." At the mention of Mason's name, Tom felt her eyes piercing him like a thousand tiny daggers. "Let's speak honestly. If Mason loved you like you love him, he would have joined you long ago."

"_How can you bring this up when I feel as I do, when all I want to do is forget__?" _Angrily grinding out the cigarette, she fought back tears and hoped he would stop.

But he continued, "I knew you wouldn't believe me and would have to experience the reality for yourself."

With eyes growing moist, she stared hotly into his. "And what do you know of love?"

Tom's manner softened. He sighed and with a wistful voice asked, "What do I know of love? You are such a child!"

Her face filled with anger watching him stretch out, his arm draped along the top of the seat_. _

"You are the most insulting man I know." She fumed, clenching and unclenching her fingers. "How dare you speak to me like that!"

Leisurely he brought the cigarette to his lips, continuing his thoughts and ignoring her words. "Yes, you are a child in a woman's body; a beautiful body you have learned to use as a weapon to beguile any man. You are an impulsive child who wants what you want coupled with a tantrum when you're faced with the reality of not getting what you desire."

Suddenly a crackled voice sounded through the panel near the door. "Mr. Robertson, we need a destination."

Tom smiled, watching an angry and distraught Laura Donaldson. "I thought we might have dinner tonight, you and I. My treat, you decide the location."

She rolled her eyes, "I don't want to be seen in public with you, you're insulting. I want to go home."

Tom tapped ashes into the ashtray, before pressing the button on the intercom. "Home, Bernard."

"Miss Donaldson's apartment, sir?" the driver inquired.

"No, Bernard," Laura spoke loudly in the direction of the speaker, "Mr. Robertson's home."

Tom's eyebrow cocked upward in surprise.

Laura crossed her arms, chin elevated in defiance. "I said didn't want to be seen in public with you." "_You stretch out on that seat flaunting your male prowess like Shere Khan. I'll show you a tantrum._

Steam bellowed above the roman tub as Laura carefully removed the last of her clothing.

She had stayed in the same first floor green guest room the week-end of the festive dinner party announcing their engagement. Close family friends gathered at the Cherry Hill home of Tom and Margaret Robertson, their home a mix of male and female qualities. The rugged native stone fireplace with its rustic wooden mantle, Remington statues and hunting trophies represented the Tom influence while the delicate chandeliers, lace curtains, rose and navy Persian rugs gracing tile floors represented the Margaret domain.

Opening her cosmetic bag, she removed the prescription bottle, setting it on the sink next to the glass of bourbon.

Bernard had swiftly maneuvered the car along the curved road, past one gated drive after another. Tom continued speaking, her mind drifting. The driver dutifully carried her bags to her room as she turned and glared at Tom, telling him what a rude and inconsiderate man he was. He had not followed her, only informing her that Phyllis, the housekeeper, had gone home for the night and he would prepare their meal.

She had called him rude and inconsiderate. Was that all she wanted to tell him? What about Glen? Shouldn't you say something to him, your future husband? Laura drank the bourbon and thought. No note. Let them all wonder. Tantrum indeed. Carefully she removed the medicine bottle's cap, walked to the tub and placed it next to the ceramic soap tray. Gingerly she placed one foot after the other into the hot bubbled water submersing her body and mind. Tears welled in her eyes as she stared at the prescripted answer to all her pain.

Suddenly a knock sounded at the bathroom door. Her eyes jerked open. How long had it been? Minutes, no, maybe an hour. She had lost all sense of being. The open bottle remained on the side of the tub; the solid mat of bubbles had diminished to tiny isolated islands, the water barely warm.

"Laura", the voice called. It was Tom's voice.

Her eyes darted to the edge of the tub.

"Are you o.k.?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm fine."

"I don't believe you."

Quickly she reached up and pushed the bottle behind some bath oil.

"If you don't believe me, look for yourself."

Slowly the door eased open, a few inches at a time until his head and shoulders were visible through the opening.

Laura gave an exaggerated smile. Cautiously Tom moved into the large bathroom as though he were stalking prey. The roman tub sat in the center of the room with bellowing lace curtains covering the window behind. She could see he had showered; his neatly combed hair still glistened with moisture, his dress more casual.

"See," she raised her arms and wrist to show him.

He stood next to the tub, his eyes moving along her wrists, trailing to her bare shoulders. The surface of the water covered her like a lacy blanket, both hiding and revealing her naked body.

"No," he shook his head." You're too vain for that. It would take away from people looking at you and wondering how someone so beautiful didn't want to live. They would remember the scene more than torture themselves wondering where they'd failed you."

He looked around the tub. "My expectation is that there is a bottle of something hidden behind all that decorative stuff. However, you know that by so readily showing me your wrists, you revealed your thoughts to me ….and your flare for the dramatic."

Though she smiled lazily at him, she found herself both amazed and impressed at his insight. A tiny spark of life coursed through her.

Tom's hands hung loosely by his side. His eyes still moved over the soft skin of her shoulders and chest, and the surface of the tub. Like a puzzle, his brain tried to fill in the image of her body, the parts he could see and imaging what was hidden from his view beneath the foam.

Sarcastically he informed her, "You should stay in this world to torment me, you know. Leaving me would be too easy and not very satisfying for you. You should stay and make my life a living hell."

She could feel his eyes moving over the tub and felt satisfaction.

"A living hell," she repeated, fighting a wicked smile that threatened to appear on her lips.

Tom slowly turned and walked to the door; his hand on the knob, he stopped.

"I agree. Your alternative is much more intriguing." She answered in a flip tone, waiting for his response.

His back still turned to her; his hand gently rocked the knob back and forth in his fingers, seconds ticking away to eternity. Laura suddenly felt her breathing stop in response to his unusual moment of silence.

Slowly he turned, his hand still gripping the doorknob, his face drawn and solemn. It was like a wall had been momentarily lowered and she could see deep inside him. "You know," he whispered, "I'd miss you."

Her eyes meet his and felt she was seeing inside his heart. Faintly he laughed, "Who would I talk to?"

Laura felt her throat tightening with emotion, unable to speak. Slowly he turned and slipped from the room, closing the door behind him.

She loved the feel of silk on her skin; it was as though she wore nothing at all. Slipping on the burgundy lounge wear, she felt comfortable and relaxed as Tom's words played over and over in her mind, giving her comfort. _"You know, I'd miss you. Who would I talk to_?"

An hour earlier she had battled depressive thoughts and felt her life was not worth living. Knowing Tom would miss her and needed her presence gave her renewed hope.

Moving along the hallway to the kitchen, she paused outside the double doors before slowly entering. The kitchen was massive with two of every appliance needed for entertaining dinner guests. Tom stood at an island that served as both a prep area and cooking area, with a small eating bar along one side. Everything needed for their meal lay neatly organized on the counter.

Dressed in a white shirt with the sleeves rolled to the forearm and khaki pants, he looked up from his work and smiled as she silently walked toward him.

"So you would miss me?" She asked softly, standing by his side.

He wiped his hands on a towel and turned to her. "Why would this surprise you?"

Laura studied the warmth of his brown eyes as she slipped her arms around his waist and pulled herself toward him, resting her head against him, feeling the soft hair of his chest peeking through his open shirt.

"I'd miss you too," she whispered, not sure if he heard her while his arms folded around her, his chin resting on the top of her head. She sighed with relief, enjoying the strength and comfort of his arms. Within their circle, she could fight the demons that plagued her. His fingers knowingly explored and caressed her back.

Feeling the absence of a bra, he gently pulled away and inhaled deeply, regaining his composure, looking down at her. "I thought we were eating out somewhere so I gave Phyllis the night off; I'm afraid you'll have to tolerate my cooking."

"And Margaret, my future mother-in-law?"

Tom smiled as he slid two wine glasses across the counter and filled them from a chilled bottle. "Still in Paris with her friends, shopping and dining I'm afraid. They've enjoyed La Tour d'Argent, a wonderful restaurant with a view of the Seine and Notre Dame. They've consumed the finest Burgundy wine selected by the best sommelier, along with truffles, and caramelized fruits and vegetables."

He raised his glass in a mock toast. "And I'm afraid you're stuck here with me, tossed salad, scrambled eggs and steak."

Laura smiled sweetly, sipping the wine. "I think I have the best arrangement." She raised a brow. "I don't think Margaret cares for me very much."

He chuckled lightly. "I'm afraid it's one of the perils of being married to my son. She didn't like Glen's first wife either. He and his mother have always been close. You'll be at this house often for dinners."

Laura eased around the island and sat on the stool across from his work area. "That might not be so bad. You'll be there won't you?"

Tom turned on the burner and grill. "I'll be there, if you need the moral support." He grinned. "Not that you need any help taking up for yourself, but for family harmony."

"Will you give me some kind of sign when I'm heading into dangerous territory?" she asked.

He opened the refrigerator and retrieved ingredients and placed them on the counter. "I'm sure we can work out some type of code."

Tom poured a little olive oil in the skillet, turning it around, coating the surface. Skillfully he retrieved an egg, crack it on the edge of ceramic bowl, and with one hand twisted the two halves, releasing the yolk and the white. Laura watched him in awe as he did one egg after another.

"I didn't know you could do that."

Taking the whisk and a little water he began to beat the eggs vigorously, adding ingredients as he continued the process.

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me."

She leaned on her propped fists and watched him appreciatively. "I suppose that's true; you still surprise me."

"That's good to know. But tell me, how do I compare to this Mason fellow? I must admit to being a little curious about someone who refuses my offer for an interview." He gave her a direct stare. "It doesn't happen very often."

She felt a twang of pain at the mention of his name and yet a little relief in being able to speak about him in a loving manner. Eyebrows arched as she leaned back and looked at Tom in a new light.

"Well, you're roughly the same height. You both have broad shoulders, a wrestler's build; his hair is dark and wavy, while yours is a dignified gray."

Tom slipped the slender strips of steak from the marinade onto the hot grill with a sizzle. "Keep going," he encouraged.

"Perry has the most beautiful and expressive blue eyes that can be warm and sexy or intense and piercing. And your eyes…." She lowered her head and caught his eyes, and he smiled. "Your eyes are dark, mysterious, and all knowing. Sometimes when you look at me, I think you know what's in my heart."

Whipping the eggs one last time, he poured them into the hot skillet with a hiss. "Keep talking, I want to hear more about this Mason."

"Well, there are intimate details….." Laura's voice trailed off.

"Come on now, Laura, I'm not a prude. The man would have to meet your standards as a lover. I would not care to bet and knowing your undying love for him, he must have been quite extraordinary."

Surprisingly, Laura felt her face flush and blurted out. "And what about you, Tom; what kind of lover are you?"

He flipped the eggs around in the skillet, grinning boyishly. "If you were impressed with my one handed egg cracking skill, then you might know I have many other talents that extend to the bedroom. I'm older and more worldly; don't forget that."

Laura couldn't suppress a giggle.

Moving between the grill and skillet he tended their meal. "Go on, this is very interesting."

"Perry is a tenacious fighter, committed to truth and justice, a humanitarian, and altruistic."

Tom could not suppress his amusement as Laura's face contorted into a frown. "And what's so funny about that?"

He finished his wine in one gulp, and leaned against the counter. "I can understand you being attracted to his tenacious character, but the rest,…humanitarian,…. altruistism,….. and you…. the man must have been fantastic in bed."

At first she found his laughter annoying, but the more her mind pondered his line of thinking, she did find it amusing and smiled. "Well he does have concerns about our 'supposedly'," she emphasized the word, "different values."

Tom threw back his head and roared with laughter, reminding her surprisingly of the man they were describing. Shaking his head and still laughing, he refilled both glasses and asked, "And how would you describe me? Humanitarian? Altruistic?"

Laura rested her chin on her laced fingers and smiled. "Darwinian."

His finger waggled up and down at her. "Darwinian. I like that, survival of the fittest. Isn't that what we do, Laura; we survive? Like two cats always landing on their feet."

Slipping the plates from the counter, he handed her one. Quietly they served themselves from the scrambled eggs, steak, tossed salad and then sat at a small table used by the kitchen help.

"The eggs are very rich and flavorful and I can't say I've ever had a tossed salad with them."

He swirled the wine in his glass and watched her eat. "A quick and easy meal for a man on the run. Tell me, Laura. What are your plans besides marrying my son?"

"I don't know." She answered between bites. "Chuck, Charles, you know the Lt. Governor, mentioned I should run for the congress."

Tom's eyebrow arched upward, his eyes narrowed. "Interesting."

"What do you think?"

"You have the talent for it, the presence and the charm. I've seen you work a room."

"Why haven't you ever run?" she asked.

Chuckling he replied, "I have the charm of a rattlesnake."

Her hand slipped across the table and covered his. "You sell yourself short and besides you'd be attractive to other rattlesnakes."

He gently took her hand, stroking the tips of her fingers, turning the large diamond on her hand. "Being in politics is not like being in the snake pit; you know that don't you? In there, you know who's on what side and why you're there. I had your back in the snake pit."

Her head nodded in understanding as he continued, "People in politics are like fleas; one dog is as good as another as long as he's going your way. When things look bad, or they have a change of heart, they easily change dogs. There's no loyalty or allegiance. You're just a means to an end; you're just their vehicle to the top, remember that."

"I guess right now I should worry about getting through each day and taking things as they come and not worry about politics just yet."

"You know, Chuck would not casually mention this to you. He has some angle for wanting you in the legislature." He observed slicing the steak and eating it.

"I suppose you're right," she agreed, finishing the eggs on her plate.

He enjoyed the touch of her skin and the fact that she didn't pull away from him. He looked around the room and then back to her. "I want you to have all this."

"All of what?" Laura looked up from her plate in surprise.

"Everything," he answered and rapidly added, "the firm, all my possessions. Someday of course, when I'm gone, it will be yours and Glen's."

Looking at her fingers in his hand, she felt her lips tremble at the thought of him no longer being in her life. "Don't talk like that," she whispered.

"Remember, you said it yourself. I'm Darwinian; I'm a survivor. Survival of the fittest; I'm passing it on to you. It's not an 'if', but a 'when'. I'm not immortal."

Laura fought back the tears.

"It's perfectly acceptable to shed a tear," he told her smiling weakly. "It must be your Roedean and finishing school training, controlled tears and emotions. You can shed a tear before me. I find it very feminine and endearing."

Swiftly she moved her fingertips across her cheeks sweeping away the liquid trails.

"Thank you for granting me permission to cry for you. I can only imagine the cheers and singing at your wake, the dancing on your grave, celebrating the demise of Shere Khan, the 'tiger king'." She taunted him.

"Shere Khan, the tiger king, I like that. I've been called many things, but nothing so noble." Tom joked, trying to stifle her tears only to see new ones welling up in her eyes.

"Laura," he whispered, pulling his chair around to face hers, taking her hands in his, his legs forming a protective barrier around her.

"What would I do without you?" she asked weakly.

"We have to think of the future; you know that." He reminded her. "In a few months you will marry Glen…"

She began to argue and stopped as he moved his finger back and forth for her silence as he continued. "…and you will be the perfect complement to each other as husband and wife. You will be an asset to my firm and I will be your dear and devoted father-in-law."

Gently he moved his hand along her cheek to wipe away the tears. She took his hand in hers and leaned her cheek into it. He took a ragged breath. "My darling, Laura."

"Oh, Tom," she whispered, kissing the palm of his hand.

Gently he took her in his arms and held her, feeling her body tremble, his lips whispering gently in her ear. "There can never be an 'us'. You know that." He paused. "Glen is a good man and loves you very much, perhaps too much."

He sighed and laughed softly, "Perhaps I'll have to take my son aside for some fatherly advice on how to properly handle his feisty wife." He could hear her chuckle slightly. "And you can come to my office. We can talk like we always do and you know I'll always have your back."

Laura slowly pulled away from him, fingers vigorously wiping away the tears, her head slowly nodding in agreement.

Tom smiled as he gently cupped her face in his hands. "You know I'll always love you." She returned the smile and nodded her head. Gently, he kissed her forehead and whispered, "You'll always be my girl."

~fini~

My creative timeline~

_Eleven months later Glen and Laura are married and honeymoon in the south of France._

_Twelve years later, Laura Robertson makes a failed attempt for __congress._

_Fourteen years later, Tom Robertson suffers a massive heart attack in his office. Laura Robertson cradles his head in her lap as he whispers his dying words to her. Inconsolable, Laura falls under the complete and total care of Dr. Emmitt Michaels. _

_A special thanks to EastEnder for her insights into Laura's British and Swiss education._


End file.
